


Ceremonies

by Selkit



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:10:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkit/pseuds/Selkit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Vigil's Keep celebrates the Wintersend holiday, Sigrun finds her evening taking an unexpected turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ceremonies

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant for the 2013 Women of Dragon Age challenge, but I missed the deadline. Figured I might as well post it anyway!

“Well,” Oghren said, and let out a belch that would be impressive for anyone else, but was merely standard for him. “They may have crazy dreams, short lives, ‘n a whole lotta darkspawn, but let it never be said that th’ Wardens don’ know how to throw a party.”

Sigrun grinned and propped her chin in her hand, shaking her head at the other dwarf. “Oghren, you’re drunk.”

“Yep!” he declared cheerfully, slurping another gulp from his tankard before waddling off on unsteady legs—looking for a refill, Sigrun guessed. She chuckled to herself as she watched him go, wrapping her hands around her own mug. 

He may have been drunker than a nug trapped in a brewery, but he wasn’t wrong. The festivities were in full swing all around her, the Keep stuffed full of Wardens and nobles alike, all celebrating the Wintersend holiday. The main hall was lined with more banquet tables than she’d ever seen, each heaped high with platters of all kinds—meats and fruits and sweets, nuts and vegetables and some kind of pudding so thick she wasn’t sure her spoon would even dent it. Apparently Warden appetites—bigger than average at the most mundane of times—turned nothing short of ravenous during holidays.

The kegs, unsurprisingly, were getting an even bigger workout than the banquet tables. The free-flowing alcohol had loosened limbs as well as tongues, and the makeshift dance floor was full to bursting. It was hard to pick out individuals amidst all the swirling and twirling, but if she concentrated, Sigrun thought she could see the Commander dancing with someone who looked suspiciously like Anders. And off to one side, she could almost _swear_ that was the King of Ferelden performing the Remigold—and doing a damn fine job of it, too.

_Then again, my eyes might be playing tricks on me._ She snickered a little and took another swig, a pleasant hum just beginning to buzz between her eardrums.

Several hours ebbed by, and the throng showed no signs of dissipating. Sigrun made a circuit around the room, drinking and chattering and refilling her plate. When she found herself in front of the door, she paused, eyeing the handle thoughtfully.

“I think I’m going to step outside for some fresh air,” she announced to no one in particular.

A nobleman standing several feet away arched an eyebrow at her, affecting a quizzically owlish expression. “That seems a rather odd statement coming from a dwarf, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Sigrun shrugged. “Well, you humans seem to say it all the time, so there must be something to it.” She grinned and latched onto the handle, throwing her weight against the door and letting it swing shut behind her.

Outside, the courtyard lay dark and still, an almost startling contrast to the frothing activity within the Keep. Sigrun paused just beyond the doorway, letting her eyes slip closed, and a slow grin spread across her face. Though she enjoyed the activity and people in the Keep, it couldn’t quite compare to the courtyard’s solitude, with nothing but the armor on her back, the dirt under her toes, and the faint crackling of a distant fire.

It felt almost like coming home.

She took a deep, appreciative breath, savoring the scents of mud and leaves, and damp air heavy with the promise of impending Drakonis storms. Everyone else seemed to consider rain bothersome, but to Sigrun it was nothing short of fascinating. Water, just falling from the sky, like _magic_. How could anyone ever get tired of that, even if they _had_ lived on the surface their whole lives?

She let out a small, content sigh, and opened her eyes. 

Across the courtyard, a quick dash of movement caught her attention, little more than a brief blur interrupting the evening stillness. She frowned and craned her head, squinting into the dark. 

“Someone out there?” she called. “You’re awfully late to the party! Better hurry before all the good food gets eaten!”

No response. Sigrun waited a moment, then rolled her shoulders in a shrug. _Probably just one of the dogs…or maybe I’ve had more to drink than I thought?_

She was in the middle of recounting the number of times she’d filled her mug when the movement came again, and this time if she squinted, she could just make out a figure heading rapidly in the opposite direction.

“Hey!” she called, but the movement didn’t stop. 

_Curiosity may have killed the cat,_ she thought, remembering one of the common human phrases she’d heard around the Keep. Humans were certainly fond of their sayings, or so she’d found. _But me? Well, hey, I’m already dead. Awfully convenient, that._

She grinned to herself and started off after the shadowy figure, her armor clanking as she broke into a trot. She made it no more than halfway down the courtyard before the figure spun around to face her, and she caught a glimpse of faint moonlight reflecting off a sharp-eyed gaze. 

“Nosy dwarf!” The voice was as familiar as it was irritated. “Can’t you just leave well enough alone?”

“Oh.” Sigrun skidded to a halt, her nose wrinkling in disappointment. “I didn’t know it was you, Velanna. You could have answered me when I called, you know, instead of sneaking around in the dark like a burglar. If you’d said, ‘hey, it’s only me being my usual grumpy self!’ I would have just left you alone.” 

“Fine,” Velanna said, her voice brittle. “Now that the mystery is solved, please feel free to do just that.”

“Wait.” Sigrun took a step closer, raising her eyebrows as she caught sight of the pack slung across Velanna’s narrow shoulders. “Are you…leaving?”

Even in the dark, she could see the elf’s face tighten. “Would it make any difference to you if I was?”

“Well…” Sigrun tilted her head. “We don’t have anyone else here who can do that neat trick you do with tree roots. That sure comes in handy in a fight!”

“That’s not a _trick_ , it’s—” Velanna cut herself off, her voice giving way to an exasperated noise. “Never mind. Leave me be, Sigrun. I’m sure all the drunk _shemlen_ at the party make better company than me.”

“They’re more cheerful, that’s for sure,” Sigrun said. “But hey, Velanna…look, I can understand why you’re leaving, but don’t you think you should at least say goodbye to the Commander first? And maybe Nathaniel too, while you’re at it? They’ll probably send out a search party if you don’t, and—”

Velanna’s long, forceful sigh cut her off. “I’m not leaving.”

“Howe will mope around even more than he already—wait. You’re not?” Sigrun stumbled to a halt. “Oh. Well, where are you going in such a hurry, then?”

“I’m observing the holiday, same as everyone else,” Velanna said, in the sort of tone that suggested she was explaining something perfectly obvious. “I simply prefer to celebrate in the ways of my people rather than cavort around in a drunken haze like the humans. To them, the holiday is a celebration of their 'Maker,' anyway, which is certainly of no relevance to me. Does that satisfy your infernal curiosity?” 

“A little,” Sigrun said, voice bright. “But if you let me come along, that would help even more.”

“What?” For a moment, Velanna sounded dumbstruck. “But—”

“I’m not an elf, I know,” Sigrun said. “But at least I’m not a human, right?”

“That’s something, I suppose,” Velanna said. For the first time, Sigrun thought she saw a hint of a smile cross the elf’s face. “Still, I can’t imagine why you would be interested.”

“Remember back when I said you were the first elf I’d ever met?” At Velanna’s nod, she continued. “Well, you’re still the _only_ elf I’ve ever met. And I’m just curious about all that culture you hold onto so fiercely. You’re all about preserving your people’s language and stories and traditions, but what good are those if you keep them all to yourself?”

Velanna hesitated a long moment, her face twisted into its typical scowl. The expression looked even more ferocious than usual in the darkness of the courtyard, the uneven moonlight turning her features misshapen, her eyes piercing like a wolf’s. 

“Very well,” she finally sighed, punctuating her reluctance with a sniff. “If you insist.”

“Great!” Sigrun flashed her widest, cheekiest grin for good measure. “So, where are we going?”

“Not far. I’ve set up a little ways outside the courtyard. I thought tonight, of all nights, no one would stop me, or stumble through and ruin everything.” She sighed again, pressing her thumb and forefinger between her eyes as though warding off a headache. “Clearly I was wrong.”

“Aw, don’t think of it that way.” Sigrun broke into a jog, trying to keep pace with Velanna’s brisk stomps. “It’s no fun celebrating a holiday by yourself.”

To her surprise, the expected acidic retort didn’t come. Velanna’s stride faltered a little, almost imperceptibly, and she turned her head to the side as though catching sight of something fascinating off in the distance.

Sigrun frowned and opened her mouth—to say what, she didn’t know—but the moment had already passed. Velanna’s pace quickened, her arms swinging stiffly by her sides and her spine ramrod straight. 

After another few paces, she came to a sudden, sharp halt, planting her hands on her hips and surveying the area. Sigrun stifled a squeak, veering to the side to avoid knocking the elf off her feet. 

“That was close!” she said with a laugh. “Are we at the right spot?”

“No, I stopped to file my fingernails,” Velanna said. She cast Sigrun a pointed look, but the sarcasm seemed to lack its usual bite. “We’re here. Just…try not to touch anything.”

Sigrun glanced around. Aside from a blanket spread on the ground and a row of unlit candles likely snatched from a supply closet in the Keep, there wasn’t much _to_ touch. 

“No problem,” she said. “Although that blanket does look comfy.” 

“We’re not here for a _nap_.” Velanna flicked her fingers at a spot several feet away. “You can sit there if you want.”

“Okay.” Sigrun planted herself on the ground, pulling her knees up to her chest. “So…I’ll just watch?”

Velanna nodded, removing the pack from her shoulders and setting it on the blanket. She made quick work of the knots, pulling out several items and lining them up in front of her, fingers hovering briefly over each one as she muttered something under her breath. 

“Very well,” she said after a moment, more to herself than to Sigrun. “It’s hardly ideal, but I suppose this is the best one can do when restricted to supplies from a _shemlen_ stronghold.”

She knelt on the blanket and tipped her head back, gazing upward as though her eyes could pierce through the clouds to the constellations beyond. She released a long, quiet breath, and it seemed to Sigrun that all the tension drained out of her. 

When she began to sing, a soft and lilting Elvish melody, Sigrun blinked. 

She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but _that_ wasn’t it. The voice was barely recognizable as Velanna’s, the bitter and weary undercurrents stripped away, replaced by something…wistful. _Peaceful, even_ , she thought, although using such a word to describe Velanna seemed almost ludicrous. 

She found herself closing her eyes, listening as the song rose and fell and rose again, winding and fluid like a long and twisting river. She didn’t understand a word of Elvish—aside from _shem_ and several other invectives Velanna sometimes trotted out—but it didn’t much matter. 

A hush spread over the courtyard when the last note died away, broken only by a dog’s distant howl. Sigrun cleared her throat, muffling the noise in her palm. 

“That was really pretty,” she said. 

“Shhh.” Velanna shot her a glance. Her brow creased, but her eyes were bright. “You’re supposed to stay quiet during this part of the ceremony.”

“Right,” Sigrun whispered, giving a solemn nod. “Sorry.”

Between the cloud-covered night and the language barrier, it was difficult to understand all the ritual’s steps, but there was no mistaking the reverence in Velanna’s voice and hands. Her movements were smooth and sure, never faltering, and her voice rose and fell in a steady cadence. It was clear she had committed the words to memory long ago—probably as a child, Sigrun realized. This was, after all, the sort of thing she’d trained for all her life. 

She frowned, suddenly wondering how much more she was missing. Was this ritual supposed to be performed alone, or with other elves? Would the entire clan normally participate? Did they have to perform it at a specific time? Was Velanna’s former clan completing the same ritual right now, in some distant forest? 

And how many other important elf things had Velanna missed now that she was exiled, probably forever? 

“Did you fall asleep, dwarf?”

Sigrun blinked, looking up at the elf looming over her, hands planted on hips and her usual scowl back in place.

“Not sleeping!” she said quickly. “Just listening.”

Velanna sighed. “Well, I’m finished now, so you can go back to the Keep and resume drinking. Or stay out here and stare at nothing, I suppose.”

She turned to shove the items back into her small pack, plucking up the blanket and giving it a brisk shake. Sigrun got to her feet, tilting her head to one side.

“I was just thinking,” she said. “I guess this must be kind of hard for you, huh?”

“What?” Velanna half-turned, frowning over her shoulder. “As I said, it was difficult to gather the proper items from such a crude human fortress, but—”

“I’m not talking about the ritual,” Sigrun said. “You made that look easy. I meant…everything. Having to be here instead of with your people. Watching you during the ceremony, it just looked like you probably miss them. A lot.”

Velanna’s eyes widened before her whole face went tight, as though one of her gods had reached out of the sky and pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t need your pity, Sigrun,” she muttered, slinging the pack roughly over her shoulders. 

“I’m not saying you’re pitiful.” Sigrun shrugged. “But…I’m sorry I made fun of you for being such a grump. And I’m glad you let me sit in on your celebration. I know you wouldn’t have done that for just any old person wandering through the courtyard, so…thanks.”

Velanna stared at her for a long moment, brow furrowed, as though she were searching the words for any trace of mockery. Sigrun gave her a smile, bright and honest, and bounced a little on her toes.

“So what happens now?” she asked. “After the ritual, I mean. Does everyone just go back to what they were doing, or are there more steps?”

Velanna shook her head. “After the ceremony, the clan gathers for food and drink. Sometimes dancing, depending on how many drinks everyone’s had.”

“Really?” Sigrun laughed. “So even elves know how to party, huh?”

“When the occasion calls for it.” Velanna snorted, but her lips twitched upward, just a little. 

“Well, I’ll have a drink with you, if you want,” Sigrun said. “Tell you what—I’ll even get it from the Keep and bring it out to you, so you don’t have to mingle with the humans.”

For a moment it appeared as though Velanna was actually considering the offer, until she pursed her lips and gave Sigrun a pointed look. “You’ve had quite enough already this evening, don’t you think?”

“I’m not _that_ drunk,” Sigrun grinned. “But all right. Maybe some other time. Say…Summerday?”

“Mythal, why are dwarves so persistent?” Velanna threw up her hands. “Very well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt. On the off chance that you still remember this by then.”

“Oh, I’ll remember,” Sigrun promised. “And I’m gonna hold you to it. One dead dwarf and one grumpy elf are booked for a celebratory drink on Summerday. No humans invited.”

Velanna rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Creators help us all.”


End file.
